


Thirteen Weeks

by vega_voices



Series: You Are Like That, [1]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, idiots to lovers to idiots again, love isn't pie, resolutions, they are long lingering looks and angst, they really said let's put them on a planet and then wonder if they fuck?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27703529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: Parameters. Six weeks into their new life and she was still trying to control everything to a level that even Starfleet would tell her to calm the hell down. But, she didn’t know how else to find her footing. The plasma storm had taken everything from her - her testing supplies, her research up to this point, everything. And yes, the universe seemed to be telling her to sit down and shut the fuck up and learn to love her new life, but she wasn’t sure how. So, in classic fashion, she’d walked out into their living space and met his eyes and demanded they define parameters for emotions that terrified her and now she was sitting, holding her breath. What the hell had she meant by that?
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway, Kathryn Janeway/Mark Johnson
Series: You Are Like That, [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861696
Comments: 28
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Thirteen Weeks   
**Author:** vegawriters  
 **Fandom:** Star Trek: Voyager  
 **Series:** You Are Like That,  
 **Pairing:** Janeway/Chakotay  
 **Rating:** E  
 **Timeframe:** Resolutions  
 **A/N:** Book canon/references go out to Una McCormack’s _The Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway_ , _Anya and the Dragon_ & _Anya and the Nightingale_ by Sofiya Pasternack; _Dear Ghosts,_ by Tess Gallagher, and _Inferno_ by Dante Alighieri. Also, _Resolutions_ (Season 2, Ep 25) was written by Jeri Taylor.  
 **Disclaimer:** If I owned these guys, I wouldn’t be writing fic, would I? (Yes, I would.) Also, if they want to hire me, I’ve got stories for ya. 

**Summary:** _Parameters. Six weeks into their new life and she was still trying to control everything to a level that even Starfleet would tell her to calm the hell down. But, she didn’t know how else to find her footing. The plasma storm had taken everything from her - her testing supplies, her research up to this point, everything. And yes, the universe seemed to be telling her to sit down and shut the fuck up and learn to love her new life, but she wasn’t sure how. So, in classic fashion, she’d walked out into their living space and met his eyes and demanded they define parameters for emotions that terrified her and now she was sitting, holding her breath. What the hell had she meant by that?_

_I wanted to take you in, peel and all,  
with the mind’s all-swallowing.   
But the mind prefers unoranging  
the orange until a segment unhinges  
to shine upright  
into the night sky, unaware  
of the night or of its own shining. _  
From: Orange Sutra (Tess Gallagher)

**Before**

“You ever worry that whenever we find something like this planet, it’s just too good to be true?” Kathryn asked as she took the lead, making her way along the river toward a clearing in the trees. Everything about the moment was idyllic, something Phoebe would love to paint, something her mother would work into a story. What would Gretchen Janeway write? Intrepid children exploring an uninhabited planet, safely of course, learning about the edible flora and safe fauna? She glanced over her shoulder at Chakotay, who had stopped to kneel next to the water. Slowly, he dipped his hands into the cool river and washed his face and Kathryn absolutely understood the impulse. “Maybe we can just park it here on the planet for a few days,” she said as she came over to him. “I think the entire crew would benefit from just getting down for a couple of hours at a time and breathing some fresh air.” 

“Smartest idea you’ve had in weeks,” he said, a grin crossing his face as he stood up. His steps took him close to her, well inside even their personal bubble - which was closer than most might consider professional - and every instinct in her wanted to reach for his hand. Before she could give in, Kathryn turned and kept walking, knowing he followed. 

Together, they made their way from the river, into the forest, still scanning for plant and animal life. There wasn’t much in the way of fauna - her tricorder detected primate lifesigns, some deer-like animals. There were fish in the river and rather than try and catch them, Neelix and B’Elanna had rigged the scanners and the transporters to bring up water and fish at the same time. The patches of edible flora were dense enough that the same trick could be used to refill the food stores. Only five people had come down to the planet, and three of them were already back on board. That left her and Chakotay and truly, she just didn’t want to leave. Not yet. Captain’s prerogative, they got the first few hours of shoreleave. So, they kept exploring.

Stepping into a thicket, Kathryn reached up to catch a branch before it smacked Chakotay in the face. Both of them froze as spider-like creatures crawled down from the leaves - most fell harmlessly to the ground but three settled on her hand and two on his neck above his collar. “Shit,” he muttered as he reached up to brush them away. “Yeah, I got bit.”

Already her hand showed the pale red bump of an histamine reaction. “Same.” 

“Shoreleave over?”

“We should tell the doctor. He can make the final decision.” Kathryn touched her comm badge. “Two to beam directly to sickbay.” 

“Captain?” came the voice of the doctor, “are you all right?” 

She always wondered how a hologram could be so holier-than-thou and yet so anxious all at the same time. “Overly cautious, Doctor,” she said quickly. “The commander and I were bitten by a local insect and are already experiencing an histamine reaction. Given that we don’t know if the biofilters have seen anything like this …” she paused. “Did this happen to the other members of the away team?”

“Nothing was reported, and I checked them all out, as per protocol.” A sigh. “All right, I’ll await your arrival.” 

“Energize.” 

Kathryn gave one long look around the forest, hoping that in just a couple of hours they could be back here, exploring. Maybe they could stay for a few days, she could let B’Elanna get some of the work done on the engine and really give the crew time to stretch their legs. They were safe, it seemed. No one was coming after them. Yes. Shore leave it would be. Just as soon as the doctor cleared them from these bites. 

The familiar beam encompassed them, and then, suddenly, Kathryn stopped breathing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Week One**

_Kate -_

_Look, I know you keep saying you don’t care, but could you please let me know - did you want the gray or the beige napkins. Your mother is tired of asking and if I come back without a decision she is certain you made, she’s going to tell us to elope to Risa._

_Come to think of it … do you want to elope to Risa?_

_Let me know. Please. Before you get lost in another report._

_Also - I think the dog is pregnant._

_-Mark_

It was so stupid, really, but she’d never answered this message. Even when he’d called her on Voyager, before they’d vanished into the Delta Quadrant, she’d forgotten about it. Not because she wanted to avoid the topic but because she just did not care if the napkins at the reception were gray or beige. Frankly, she had wanted to elope to Risa. But they’d focused on Molly and whether or not Mark was bothering her and she’d just forgotten the damn napkins. 

Now, a year-and-a-half into the Delta Quadrant and all she could think about every time she thought about Mark was the napkins. 

It wasn’t like she’d ever get to tell him that if they had to go through the pomp and circumstance of a traditional wedding, she actually wanted purple napkins. Her mother had her heart set on the gray or beige that was traditional in the Janeway family, but plum brought out the color of the centerpieces better. She knew her artistic mother would agree, but tradition was tradition so Kathryn had to decide between Grandma’s beige ( _It’s cream, Kathryn._ ) or Granny’s gray ( _We prefer silver._ ) Kathryn wanted purple. Deep, deep purple ( _It’s plum, Mom._ ) She should have told Mark what she wanted. Now, she was spending the rest of her life in a beige and gray Starfleet issue shelter and she knew that if she wanted deep purple sheets, she could recycle the ones she had and replicate a set. But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like the sheets would get her back to Mark, and it wasn’t like Mark was anything more than a lingering crutch. She’d already long since missed her wedding date and now her future was cemented - even if she and Chakotay got off this damned rock, she’d never see Mark again. The Delta Quadrant was now home, and her partner on this journey, forever, was someone she’d been sent to hunt down. The universe was a sentient bitch of an entity, wasn’t it? 

Tucking her feet up under her, Kathryn opened the small, ceramic box Mark had given her that night out on the veranda at the house in Bloomington. It was simple, a blue so light it was almost white, decorated with a hand painted pink rose. The velvet inside, purple. 

“What is this?” She’d asked, already knowing. She could feel Phoebe at the window, peeking. This wasn’t a surprise. They’d talked about getting married. But this made it so … real. 

“Open it.” 

Inside was her great-grandmother’s diamond ring, sized to fit her hand, and a stunning wedding band, hand crafted and set to Starfleet uniform code, to match. “Mark …”

“I love you, Kathryn,” he’d said, taking her hand, sliding the ring down her finger. “And I know that by marrying you, I take a back seat to your career. That I’ll spend the nights searching the stars, hoping you are safe. I’ll keep the homefires burning. I already do. I just want to know that every time you think of home, it’s me you’re thinking of.” 

“Mark,” she’d said again, throwing her arms around his neck, “I already do.” 

And he’d kissed her and she’d heard her mother and Phoebe squealing from inside and for a short while, everything had been perfect. Absolutely perfect. 

Later that night, stretched out in bed, sweaty and sated, he reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a book. 

“What’s this,” she’d asked. 

“Open it and see.” 

And there, in the front cover of one of the greatest classics of the human condition, was a well-memorized passage - 

_Midway upon the journey of our life  
I found myself within a forest dark,  
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.  
Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say  
What was this forest savage, rough, and stern,  
Which in the very thought renews the fear.  
So bitter is it, death is little more;  
But of the good to treat, which there I found,  
Speak will I of the other things I saw there._

And below it, Mark’s familiar scrawl - 

_We’re midway upon the journey of our life, Katy, and you only make the forest bright and the paths clear. Marry me._

“That was in case you needed more persuasion.” 

Kathryn had laughed and tossed the book aside, crawling back on top of Mark. “I’d have married you on day one, you know,” she’d said. “I love you.” 

Now, she stared at the box, at the velvet, at the diamond she’d never worn in front of her crew. After all, it was hardly regulation. Mark had made the wedding band so it would be, should she want to wear it. But she hadn’t even dared to slide the ring on since before they’d left Deep Space Nine. 

B’Elanna had been the one to go through her quarters, gathering the list of personal things Kathryn had asked be sent down. This box hadn’t been on the list. Yet, there it had materialized, resting on top of her copy of _Dante’s Inferno_. _You deserve this,_ B’Elanna had written on a scrap of paper and tucked into the book. On the back of the paper she’d scrawled, _You deserve more …._

Why hadn’t she just told Mark she wanted purple napkins? He’d have relayed the information to her mother and done it in a way that both grandmothers would be appeased. 

“Kathryn?” 

She jumped and closed the lid on the box, sliding it back into the small drawer near her bed. This setup was like bunking up in the Academy all over again. No. She’d had more space in her freshman dorm and that was with her roommate’s ability to spread her entire life over every inch of their room. 

“Yes?” 

Chakotay’s voice came through the closed partition, so gentle. As always. “I put some dinner together, if you’re hungry.” 

Was she? Kathryn looked around her new home and swallowed tightly, wincing. 

For almost two years, she’d felt the tangy, metallic taste of adrenaline in the back of her throat. Day after day, facing challenges that back home would be small - a fluctuating plasma conduit - to risking all out war with species that would never be allies, she was used to it. The taste made everything just a bit tinny - not all of her issues with Neelix’s cooking were completely the fault of the cook after all. 

Now, she had no excuse for the ever-present taste of at the back of her throat. This was a comfortable planet and they weren’t in any real danger it seemed - unless they tried to leave. Still there it was, the adrenaline. The anxiety. The part of her that could only be soothed by hunting for specimens and running tests. Even just a comfortable dinner made by someone she trusted with her very soul felt like giving up. She’d be a scientist, she kept saying to herself. She’d search and search and make discoveries along the way. She’d find a new way to explore the human body and she’d do it all with the supplies she had from Voyager and her wits. 

None of that changed the fact that Chakotay had made dinner and she needed to eat and she needed to stop sulking. 

So why couldn’t she move? Why did it hurt so much that she knew she’d never record another letter to Mark again? Mark, who she had already given up in so many ways, who she hoped had found some happiness in all of this. Mark, who was gentle and sweet and as good a geologist as she was a biologist and who loved her and was willing to put up with her mother’s endless questions about wedding planning. He’d been so thrilled for her as she took command of Voyager. So excited to become the Captain’s Husband. He’d already started contacting the spouses and family of those under her command, creating the support structure that was crucial to getting families through the long star assignment separations. Were they all still in touch? 

Why hadn’t she told him she wanted plum for the napkins?

“Kathryn?”

Damnit. “Yes! I’ll be right there!” Well, if she had to be stranded on a planet for eternity with someone, she could have worse company. And maybe, if she told Chakotay she wanted something dark for the shelter - plum perhaps - he’d find a way to make it happen. His natural skill with survival had already extended their energy reserves for weeks. But it wasn’t just the voice that drew her from her sulking, it was the use of her name. Apparently, he was ready to let “Captain” go. Maybe she needed to as well. 

So what if she still tasted the metal of adrenaline in the back of her mouth. That was natural, right? Eventually, it would fade. 

Quickly, she closed the open letter and tossed the padd onto her pillow. Two quick steps took her from her bed to the central living space where Chakotay had put dinner together. Replicated cider and bagel sandwiches topped with an herb he’d discovered the day the bugs had bitten them. The basil-like plant grew everywhere it seemed. 

He’d been asking her about her favorite holonovels and they lamented what they were missing about art and culture back home when the sharp smell of basil caught their attention. He’d reached for the herb and made a note in his tricorder and sent the information back to the ship. A few moments later, B’Elanna had beamed two bushes out of the clearing. And then they’d found the water, walked along the river, found the trees and those spider beasts. 

She reached for the cider. “This looks great, thank you.” 

Chakotay nodded and ducked his head in that way of his. They were both still smarting from her goodbye to the crew, from the reality that was descending upon them. And that reality had let to awkward silences for most of the day. They needed to talk about it, but she wasn’t ready. Hopefully, he’d understand. 

He took a seat at the small table and flipped his eyes to a piece of paper he’d been scribbling on. His list, she realized. He too was avoiding the heartbreak of the day. She should have let him say goodbye. The Maquis crew - the whole crew - should have heard from both of them. 

“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” she asked, biting into the bagel. How long before they’d need to start cooking their own food with supplies they replicated? The energy reserves would last for years, but the less they used now, the more they would have for later.

“I’m not so sure the sewage reclamation we set up initially is good for the long term.”

She wrinkled her nose, “Do you need some help with that?” 

His laugh betrayed that he’d seen her definite lack of desire to help. “I think I can manage,” he teased. “I also have that surprise I’m working on.” 

“Going to drive me crazy with that,” she taunted right back. “I have some specimen boxes to examine and I wanted to look over my notes again from the doctor’s research.” He nodded. She finished her bagel and stared into her cider, unsure if the taste in the back of her throat would make it hard to swallow. “I was wondering, Chakotay …”

“Yes?” 

She took a breath and shook her head. No. It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t the right time. They could get settled completely. Then she’d talk to him about plum colored something. “Never mind.” 

“You sure?” His tone of voice told her he knew that she had been serious. Damn him for knowing her. 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Yeah.” A low sigh escaped her and she stood up, taking her glass with her. “I think I’m going to go watch the stars.” 

Chakotay nodded and Kathryn hated to admit she was glad that he didn’t offer to follow her. 

**Week Two**

“I’m starting to regret not bringing more books,” Chakotay said from where he was sprinkling colored sand into a tray. 

Kathryn looked up from where she was uncomfortably curled up behind the table. Really, they needed more space. But, this was as good a place as any to read where she didn’t hide in her room, so here she was, and he looked bored even as he worked on the beginnings of a mandala. She laughed and held up the padd in her hand. “Don’t worry, I brought my whole library.” 

“We’ll eventually have to write our own.” 

That elicited a groan. “I can barely write my own captain’s logs …” a pause. “Not necessary any more.”

“You’re still keeping them, aren’t you?” Another pause. She felt the blush creep across her skin. He laughed. “Good,” he said. “We need a record and I’m not very good at that.”

Kathryn realized, suddenly, that he was thinking ahead, to a time when all that would be left of them might be the logs and this shelter. Someone had to know what had happened. And then she raised an eyebrow at her companion, “You’re a brilliant storyteller and you can’t keep up a personal journal?”

“After a while, telling stories to yourself gets old,” he chuckled and brushed sand off his hands. “When I was fresh out of the Academy, I was so determined to change my behavior with my personal logs that I kept three or four a day. And they weren’t even interesting. I’d just report that I changed the filters in the air filtration system of somesuch and then move on.” 

Kathryn giggled. “I did the same thing, actually.” 

“See,” he smirked at her, “that doesn’t surprise me in the least.” He cleared his throat and tilted his head, “Personal Log, Ensign Kathryn Janeway. Today, I made sure the Captain knew she was completely wrong about the placement of tubs in crew quarters and I engineered a reverse water filtration system --”

She cut him off, she was laughing so hard. “I feel called out here, Commander,” she teased. “How dare you know me so well?”

Suddenly, the room was full and tight and heavy and she couldn’t pull her gaze from his. The answer was there, in his eyes. They’d known each other since the first moment; understanding each other had always been the easy part. They were the same pattern, cut from different pieces of cloth. He didn’t respond, not vocally. He just put his head down and tugged his ear and smiled and Kathryn went back to her book, reading the same page over and over and over again. Maybe she’d go take a bath. Enjoy his present to her. Let her mind wander back to the science at hand and the hope that they could get off the planet. The tension in the room wasn’t changing. 

Slowly, she stood up. She could feel Chakotay’s eyes on her as she moved from the living space to her alcove. She shut the door, leaving the light off so he couldn’t see her through the foggy partition, and shed the dress she’d been wearing, changing it out for her robe. Stepping out again, she hugged a towel to her chest and nodded to the door. “I think I’m going to go take advantage of your lovely present to me.” 

He only nodded and she slipped out the door and up the few feet to the tub. Kathryn took a seat on the rock next to the bath and while the water churned into the basin, she stared up at the stars, committing the constellations above to memory. How far away were those brightest lights? Could one of them, any of them, be seen from Earth? Were her mother and Phoebe waiting for her, wishing on any small point of light? Was Mark? 

The water hot and ready, Kathryn slipped her robe from her shoulders and moved into the tub. Inside the cabin, it was silent, and she wondered if she stayed out here long enough, would he go to bed? Would she be able to release her tension? 

This was silly. They were two incredibly intelligent people who were attracted to each other who were stuck on a planet, together, for the rest of their lives. So why the hell couldn’t they make the move? What was she waiting for? A declaration of love? 

After all, he’d already built her a bathtub. 

**Week Three**

Oh, she was spoiled. The tub was everything she wanted and, honestly, helped her keep up with her journals. Someday she would stop calling them her Captain’s Log, right? Day twenty four. By now she was sure B’Elanna had led a revolt against Tuvok and possibly Harry was now the second in command. Tuvok was many things, but a natural captain he was not. Maybe that would force a change in the ship. Maybe they’d get home faster. 

She sighed and looked up at the stars, her mind on everything from Voyager to wondering how the seasons on this planet would change or if they were in a perfect region where they wouldn’t have to worry about colder weather to the bugs that had bitten them and her vast irritation that she just could not for the life of her find them again. She’d hunted the trees they’d run into and poked and prodded all of the insects that had landed in her traps and still, nothing. 

Maybe it was the tree itself that had been the issue, not the bug. Maybe … 

“Chakotay, are you there?” she called to him. More and more he was her sounding board for scientific rambling. He nodded along to humor her, she knew, and that was all she needed. It kept her from talking too much to herself. 

“No,” he called back from his place inside, “I left an hour ago.”

Kathryn rolled her eyes and trailed her fingertips along her thighs. Maybe he’d come out and join her for this conversation. “I was thinking. Maybe looking for protein cofactors is the wrong approach. Even if I can't find a specimen of the insect that infected us, I could try to learn something about the bio-molecular evolution of this planet's ecosystem.”

He didn’t reply right away and she was worried he’d stopped caring. “Can't hurt to give it a try,” he finally said and she nodded to herself, glad he’d --

What was that?

She sat up, listening. 

There it was again. A snap. Something coming in the woods. And she was out here, naked. Yes, she could defend herself if necessary but damnit, she was out here and naked. 

“Chakotay!” she called. 

“What?” his tone changed. She grabbed her towel and leapt from the tub, staring into the darkness before them. 

“Someone’s in the woods,” she called, her heart racing. By the time she had her head together, he was already at her side, as tense as she was. “Over there.” 

Silence. And then another rustle and she shrank back, not really wanting to fight for her life while wrapped in a towel. And then … 

“It looks like some kind of primate …” she dropped her shoulders and felt his tension lessen as well. 

“I've detected primate life signs here, but I've never seen one,” he said. She filed that away for later, wondering why he hadn’t said anything to her. Right now, Kathryn had a different focus. 

“Hello,” she said to the little monkey, “Are you hungry? Is that why you came here? I'm Kathryn. He's Chakotay. We've had to move into your neighborhood, but I hope we can be friends.” The three of them stared at each other for a few more seconds before the creature wandered back into the woods. Her shoulders sank a bit. “Well, maybe he’ll come back.” 

“Looking for a pet?” Chakotay’s voice was low and full of mirth, and she rolled her eyes as she looked at him. 

“No,” she replied, “Looking for a clue about primate physiology on this planet. They must have to contend with insect bites, too.”

And suddenly, the tension of the moment fled and she was left looking up into his eyes and realizing how close he was and that she was only in a towel and she wanted to turn to him and let the cloth fall and did he want the same thing and oh God, her heart was pounding. _Go inside, Chakotay,_ her mind begged. _Please._

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “excuse me.” 

The minute he turned his back, she dropped the towel and shrugged into her robe but she didn’t miss the breath he let out and her skin wouldn’t stop tingling and maybe if she focused on the monkey and the bites and finding a damn cure, she wouldn’t have to think about how all she wanted to do was shut the world away, climb into Chakotay’s lap, and have her way with him. But that would be giving up and she couldn’t give up because if she gave up, then really, what was left of the life she’d defined for herself for almost 41 years? Could she really accept that it was gone? 

The tub drained back into the river and Kathryn left her towel to dry as she scurried back to the cabin, her mind racing with ideas. As she stepped inside, she made one last adjustment to her robe, as if modesty mattered any more. “Maybe we should be out looking for other primates. I might be missing something important.” 

And then, silence. Not the contemplative, supportive silence she was used to, but the silence she’d known all too often back on Voyager, when he was working through the right way to tell her something she really didn’t want to hear. Finally, he took a breath and leaned in, “Kathryn, the Doctor worked for weeks trying to find a treatment for this disease.”

No. Not this. Why this? Why now? “Yes?” she challenged. 

“You've been at it twelve hours a day, seven days a week since we got here, and we're still no closer to a cure than we were the day we were infected.”

Didn’t he think she knew that, that she counted the failure as the greatest incompetence she’d faced and she’d faced more than a few? That all she wanted was to get off this rock and set sail for home in …. suddenly, she looked up to meet his eyes. Did he think she was trying to get away from him? Her partner in crime since the day they’d landed in the quadrant? “I’m not sure what you’re getting at …” she hedged. 

“My people have a saying, Even the eagle must know when to sleep. Maybe it's time we both considered that.”

Damn him. Damn the eternal storytelling and parables and aphorisms. 

“You mean quit? Give up?” Did he mean he was willing to face death? What if this was just a slow moving toxin and it killed them eventually? What if she had to sit there and watch him suffer? 

His eyes never left hers and his tone made every part of her tingle. “Why do you have to see it as defeat? Maybe it's simply accepting what life has dealt us, finding the good in it.” He’d said those words to her multiple times over the past year and a half, the reminder that even as they searched for a way back to the Alpha Quadrant, they still had a home on Voyager. Now, here, on New Earth, they had this home, this life they were building. A life together if she’d let it happen. 

Slowly, she let out a breath, knowing he was right but unable to get to that place. Not yet. “There may be a day when I'll come to that, Chakotay, but, I'm a long way from it right now. I need to keep looking.”

It took too many heartbeats, but he finally pulled back and nodded. Kathryn let out a breath, glad he wasn’t going to fight her. Not right now. But, he did move toward his alcove and closed the door behind him, leaving her in silence with her research and her anxiety. 

**Week Four**

“What was your favorite book as a kid?” 

Kathryn shook her head as she cleared their plates and stacked them next to the small sink. “That question is always a trap for me.” 

He laughed. “Why?” 

“You haven’t done your research on the illustrious Janeway family?” Kathryn put a hand to her chest and sighed dramatically. “My poor ego.” 

Chakotay laughed and it was a beautiful sound that stayed with her as she reclaimed her space on the bench at their table. Coffee cooled in her cup, tea steeped in his, and a small sweetcake Neelix had packed for them sat between them. She took a sip of her coffee and rolled her eyes. “My mother is a children’s author. Driven by art and teaching children through play. I think it was a good fit for her, really. She could keep the home fires burning while my father roamed the sky. It suited them.” 

“So when people ask you what your favorite books were as a kid, you feel some kind of sense of loyalty to speak to your mother’s work?”

“Look,” she said, a giggle escaping her lips, “ _Flotter_ was a lot of fun, okay?” 

“Wow! Your mother wrote and developed _Flotter_? That’s two generations of kids who were raised on those stories.” 

“And for good reason,” Kathryn let out a sigh. “My mother is lovely. And I love her work.” 

“But, what were your favorite stories?”

She laughed and leaned forward, tearing off a piece of the sweetcake. “There was this series from the 21st century, actually. I don’t even remember how I stumbled across it, but it must have been in my mother’s digital library. I was probably seven when I found them and I pestered my parents until they downloaded the holonovel adaptations.” A smile passed through her soul as she remembered racing upstairs to her bedroom, padd in hand, ready to curl up for the night with Anya and her goat and their friends. “There were two books - written at a time when authors had to wait to find out if the books were successful enough to warrant more attention from the publishers. When art was all about commodity rather than … sorry, I’m getting off track here, aren’t I?”

Again, Chakotay smiled, and again, her heart fluttered. Just as it had been fluttering for two years. 

“ _Anya and the Dragon_ and _Anya and the Nightingale_. When I was seven and eight, I could recite them by heart. Anya was a little girl in 11th century Russia and she had adventures with the son of the town fool and dragons and nightingales and her goat.” She smiled at the memory of the stories she hadn’t thought about in a very long time. “She and her family were the only Jews in their town, and so there were issues she had to face that way as well.” She shook her head. “When I was a kid, I grew up thinking that Anya’s descendants would have been in Starfleet.” 

They shared a comfortable laugh. “I can see those books capturing your attention, just from that brief description.” He reached for his own piece of sweetcake and chewed slowly. 

“What about you?” she prompted after a few moments of comfortable silence. 

Chakotay took a sip of his tea. “I can’t go so far back into the past for those stories that caught my imagination. I spent a lot of time on the colony where I grew up resenting … well … everything.” His tone was quiet and Kathryn sipped her own coffee and let him talk. “My parents wanted me to come sit with the family and listen to stories, and I’d go read the most modern science fiction epic that was just a bit too old for me. But …” he smiled a bit. “There was a book that caught my attention when I was about ten or so, that most likely sparked my interest in archeology. It was written by one of the original colonists who left Central America with those of the tribe who wanted to find a safer land. She knew that eventually, younger people would want answers for why we were there, why we defaulted to tradition and, honestly, sometimes superstition in some ways but chose highly advanced technology in others.” He shrugged. “Of course, I understood that part of it more when I went off to the Academy and actually studied her history.” He shook off the memory. “It’s my turn to digress.” He was quiet for a moment and again, Kathryn let him gather his thoughts. That was something they were both doing more and more since arriving here. After all, there was no longer a need to rush. 

“The book was called The Journey, and it was the story of a child named Chenlin. They took the journey of our ancestors from Earth to our colony, and along the way met their own spirit guides,” he chuckled, “including a dragon and a spider and an eagle, who helped them understand the reason we migrated. I didn’t really care about the story, but I liked the history. It took me growing up a bit to understand the two were interlinked.”

“The joy of childhood,” Kathryn said, her voice tinged with sarcasm. 

Chakotay laughed and got up to rinse his mug and place it on the shelf. “I think though, it’s clear these books from our childhoods definitely brought us here. I mean, Anya was clearly off on her own, finding friends to save her family. And I am always on that journey to understand more about myself and my place in history.” 

Kathryn followed his example. She rinsed her mug and set it on the shelf and turned to face her former first officer, not at all immune to how close they stood. “Fair point,” she said with a smile. Unable to resist, she put her hand on his chest, looked up into his eyes. “I think it’s time for bed.” 

“Good night, Kathryn.” 

“Good night, Chakotay.”

**Week Five**

It was now ritual - after dinner, they’d sit and talk. Sometimes over coffee or tea, sometimes over one of the bottles of wine or cider Neelix had thought to pack for them. What started as comfortably awkward was settling into life, much as it had in the early days of Voyager. He cooked - more and more using animals trapped and plants foraged, she was willing to at least put the dishes in the replicator and brew the coffee. It didn’t escape her how much more he was the domestic one of the two of them, and at least he didn’t seem to harbor any resentment for her lack of desire to keep up with the daily efforts of life here on New Earth. 

The later the night drew on, as conversations moved through history and culture, the more she regretted the lack of couch for them to share. Maybe someday they could grow beyond this shelter … 

No. 

She wasn’t there yet. Wasn’t ready to admit defeat. They’d at least get off the rock. Maybe they’d take the shuttle and head back to where the 37s had created their home. She could become friends with Amelia Earhart and he could lose himself in the history their people had built on that distant planet. So, right now, they would sit across from each other at the table, sipping coffee and talking about everything. Absolutely everything. 

Even if tonight’s conversation hit a note she just wasn’t sure she was comfortable with. 

It had started innocently. _What if you hadn’t entered Starfleet?_ For Kathryn, that was a non-starter. Since she was old enough to walk, she’d known she would live among the stars and even the alternate path concepts that Chakotay tried to tempt her down still ended with her stepping onto the grounds of the Academy in San Francisco. So she was instead listening to his story of how he’d broken his father’s heart by selecting the Academy over the traditions of his tribal colony. How he hadn’t known if Starfleet was where he needed to be but he knew that Starfleet would get him off the planet and give him direction and a different education than what was available at home. 

“Can I ask a question?” she posited as he took a break to refill his tea. 

“Of course.” 

“Why the Maquis? And don’t give me the patented answer of defending the voiceless. Why the Maquis?”

“Are you asking me why I joined or why so many Starfleet officers seem to defect to them?”

The answer hit her harder than she wanted it to, but Kathryn took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, actually.” 

He was quiet again and she didn’t press him. Finally, though, he looked up at her. “Earth is, by every notion of the word, a paradise. And a protected one. There are planetary defense systems, weather control setups. There is no poverty, no war. Crime is enacted by those who find themselves bored. Everyone there, they can strive to be the best vision of themselves if they so choose. Want to learn to cook and open a restaurant? We have that for you. Want to live in the desert and paint? Go forth. It’s a dream that took a long time to come into reality. A dream that humanity keeps trying to destroy, really. But even among Federation worlds, Earth is a glowing gem and you aren’t afraid to make sure everyone knows it.” 

He wasn’t wrong. So she stayed quiet. 

“Most people on Earth don’t even join Starfleet. Why leave paradise? But, for the colony worlds, it isn’t that idyllic. Yes, the worlds are beautiful. They are built in line with Federation values. Often with Earth values. And the work is hard and it is good.” He paused. “A lot of those colony worlds accepted Bajoran refugees during the Occupation. They met transports loaded down with broken, terrified Bajorans and welcomed them into their homes. They promised safety and security and together, lives were built.”

“And then the peace treaty.” 

“The peace treaty.” Chakotay sighed. “If you look at where the growth in Starfleet recruits was over the past ten years or so, it was from the colony worlds, not Earth. You have kids going off to Starfleet, to continue the colony concept of exploration and you have them leaving behind homes they grew up being so proud of. You have them leaving behind Bajoran friends who told them stories of the Cardassian occupation. You have them seeing parents fighting in the border wars …” 

“And then,” she sighed as she poured herself another cup of coffee, “they go off to the Academy and their heads are filled with the promise of Starfleet if not always the reality. They start to question moments in Federation time, like why they let Bajor suffer because it meant the Cardassians might leave the Federation alone. And then, their homes are taken away in the treaty and the Cardassians start attacking.” 

“You understand more than you pretend not to.” 

“I think,” Kathryn confessed, “that if I weren’t so blinded by my loyalties, I might have followed in many footsteps. I know what the Cardassians can do, and … between you and me …” she met his eyes, “I might have been stunned and insulted by the Maquis overall, who I felt betrayed the uniform and our principles, I think I was also angry at myself for sympathizing and feeling lost in how to respond.”

“That’s fair,” he said with a nod. 

Slowly, she reached over the table and took his hand. He was so much taller than she was, so much bigger, it was only when she touched him like this that she could see the differences. In the dim light of the cabin, they sat, absorbing history while their hands linked. “Thank you,” she murmured. 

“For what?”

“Being such a rock since we landed. If you weren’t here, I might not even have set up the shelter yet.” 

He only laughed and she felt his fingers tighten around hers. 

Since day one, all the way back on Voyager, the air between them had always been weighted. She couldn’t deny her attraction to him, but it was more than that. There was a tenderness in him she hadn’t expected from a Maquis fighter. There was an honesty in his approach to dealing with her. Despite that uniform, despite his history, he wasn’t Starfleet. And, his respect for the chain of command didn’t mean that she was always right. More than she liked to admit, her dreams were full of him. As she noticed members of the crew pairing off, she questioned every belief that had been drilled into her about how the Captain of a Starship just couldn’t indulge with anyone on her crew. Not without rules and regulations in place. 

But now what? 

Now, did it matter? 

She still hadn’t replicated plum sheets. 

Slowly, she pulled her hand from his and stood up. “It’s late,” she said. “I should turn in. I want to head out early tomorrow and check some of the further traps.” 

He swallowed and their gaze refused to break. “Good night, Kathryn.” 

“Good night.” 

Inside her tiny alcove, she closed the door and curled up in the small bed. Guilty fingers reached for the padd and she skimmed the message from Mark. 

Why hadn’t she just told him to go with the gray napkins?


	3. Chapter 3

**Week Six**

Parameters. Six weeks into their new life and she was still trying to control everything to a level that even Starfleet would tell her to calm the hell down. But, she didn’t know how else to find her footing. The plasma storm had taken everything from her - her testing supplies, her research up to this point, everything. And yes, the universe seemed to be telling her to sit down and shut the fuck up and learn to love her new life, but she wasn’t sure how. So, in classic fashion, she’d walked out into their living space and met his eyes and demanded they define parameters for emotions that terrified her and now she was sitting, holding her breath. What the hell had she meant by that? 

But he was talking. So she listened. 

“I'm not sure I can define parameters,” he said, a nervous edge to his voice even as he pushed forward. “But I can tell you a story, an ancient legend among my people.” Chakotay gathered himself and stared down at the woodwork in his hands before raising his eyes to meet hers. Her breath caught in her throat. “It's about an angry warrior who lived his life in conflict with the rest of his tribe, a man who couldn't find peace, even with the help of his spirit guide. For years, he struggled with his discontent. But the only satisfaction he ever got came when he was in battle. This made him a hero among his tribe, but the warrior still longed for peace within himself. One day he and his war party were captured by a neighboring tribe led by a woman warrior. She called on him to join her because her tribe was too small and weak to defend itself from all its enemies. The woman warrior was brave and beautiful and very wise. The angry warrior swore to himself that he would stay by her side, doing whatever he could to make her burden lighter. From that point on, her needs would come first. And in that way, the warrior began to know the true meaning of peace.”

Well, that felt a little too on the nose. But at least he had the courage to say something. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been doing things for her, for them, since they landed here. What greater declaration of love than a bathtub? She smiled despite the tear running down her cheek. “Is that … really … an ancient legend?”

He blushed and smiled and looked down before meeting her eyes again. “No,” he said, his voice thick with a tenderness she’d heard so often. Directed at her and only her. A breath, a hope. He was her most trusted confidant, and now, truly, her only companion. “But,” he continued, “it made it easier to say.” 

When she’d met Mark, there had been a silence in the air around them, like the entire world vanished and it was just her and him and nothing and no one else mattered. Sitting with Chakotay, the energy was the opposite. She wanted the world involved, to feel everything he was feeling. No less powerful than with Mark, no more so either. Just different. They were, literally, the only people in the world right now, and that was what scared her so very much. What if they ended up hating each other and still had to be here, together? 

What if they didn’t?

She put her hand up and he reached for hers, linking their fingers like they had done so often recently. Casual touches that lingered, moments in each other’s personal space that expected more than what she’d been ready to give. 

“Kathryn …?” he asked. 

She stared at him, this man who in so many ways had been her lover since they began their journey in the Delta Quadrant. All that had been missing between them was this, right here. “I’m scared, Chakotay,” she confessed. 

“About what?”

“Letting myself love you. What if I lose you? What if we’re a disaster and have to spend eternity here together, hating each other? What if … what if we aren’t, but I’m left without you?” 

He shook his head. “We’ve been asking ourselves that about each other since you destroyed the Caretaker’s array.”

The annoying thing wasn’t that he was right, but that he was mirroring her thoughts. She wiped her tears away and looked at where their hands were linked. “I know …” she gulped for air.

“So what next?” 

Silence. Heavy, pregnant, questioning silence. The romance reader in her wanted him to take control, to pull her to him, to grant them both permission to break the stalemate. The part of her that wasn’t quite sure if she was allowed to experience joy after doing so much damage to so many people, that wasn’t sure if this was allowed, wanted to run back to Mark’s letters. But what kind of life awaited her if she held on to a past that demanded to be let go? 

Kathryn Janeway hadn’t become a Captain in Starfleet without taking a few risks. And she didn’t have a starship anymore, so her risks had to be personal, and that made them so much more terrifying. But, she’d been the one to start this conversation. She’d been the one to say they needed to set parameters. So, she stood up - keeping their hands linked in the small space wasn’t hard - but he was the one who walked around the table, stepped into her personal space and finally, dear god finally, kissed her. 

Her whole live, she'd read regency-era romance novels. She read stories about women confined to ancient gender roles daring to break out of their spaces and live lives with the love of their soul next to them. They were women of cunning and guile, women who knew exactly what they wanted no matter their circumstances. Right now, as her arms moved up around Chakotay’s neck and his mouth devoured hers, she finally understood exactly why those books mattered so much to her. 

Later, she would hold to images not of their first time, but to the rest of the night and how they took the time and patience to explore each other. But, the first time, building on the passion of his confession and her own fantastical desire, they only crashed back into his alcove, stripping clothes away before they could stop and think. Thinking would ruin this, would make her question, would let her demons take control again. He pulled her down onto his lap and she sank onto him before they could even speak and she rode him hard and wet and they both came too quickly, but it was exactly what they needed. 

“Fuck …” she gasped, feeling his hands steady her. He was shaking. Slowly, Kathryn wrapped her arms around his neck, anchoring herself to him, reassuring both of them that yes, this would happen again. She buried her face against his shoulder and felt him tug lightly on her hair and suddenly, every emotion she’d been channeling into work and study and pretending they’d someday get off this rock crashed through her and she burst into frustrated, broken tears. Which was absolutely the wrong thing to do after the first time you had sex with someone you cared about like she cared about Chakotay. Thankfully, he didn’t push her back, didn’t do anything other than hold her while the emotions shoved her around like the plasma storm from the other day. 

“It’s real, isn’t it?” she finally asked, gasping through her tears. “We’re here. Forever.” 

“Yeah …” he murmured, his hands stroking her back. 

Finally, she sat back a bit, shifting with their bodies still joined. He reached between them and wiped her tears but she pulled away, climbing off his lap, and went to wash her face in the small basin in the main part of the shelter. She could feel him watching her but it wasn’t until she had control of herself that she turned back to him. Facing him, completely naked, Kathryn walked back into his alcove and reached for his hand. 

“I’m not doing this because I’ve given in. I’m not doing this because you’re literally the only man on the planet.” They both laughed. “I’m here, with you, because it’s something I’ve wanted for a very long time. But I also don’t know how to deal with these emotions so …”

“I’ve always been patient with you.” 

She nodded that truth and moved back to him. “Make love to me?” 

“I thought you’d never ask.” He rose to kiss her and she sighed into the movement. “But,” he said as he broke for air, “can I suggest something?” Her eyes flicked down to his small bunk and they both chuckled. “Feel like putting the mattresses on the floor? I’ll go get yours.” He took a breath. “And tomorrow, we’ll figure out something else.” 

“That … is perfect.” 

And it was. They spread sheets and blankets out on the two mattresses, tucking themselves in for a night that didn’t need conversation. They’d done that already, and would do it again, but right now, it was about discovering how brushing his hip with her fingertips made him arch toward her and how he loved to place kisses in the small of her back. It was about tracing scars that had never been erased and making mental notes to ask about them later. It was about collapsing, sated, against each other, sticky and exhausted, and sleeping until the sun was hot and high overhead. 

**Week Seven**

The idea came to her while they were stretched out under the tree outside the shelter, half-eaten sandwiches between them. He was musing on how best to expand their home, she was running through a quick mental check of the last time she’d had a birth control booster. Not that it really mattered, did it? And while she was hardly ready for a child now, what would happen if she did get pregnant? Oh, why couldn’t she just calm down and enjoy? 

“Neelix left us an entire box of seeds,” she said, the idea coming out of nowhere, and voiced before she could say something stupid. “You work on the plans for the cabin and I’ll start the garden.” She was positively domestic, and for the first time in weeks, she was fine with that. 

“It’s a deal.” He took a bite of his sandwich and she stretched, feeling his eyes on her. In truth, since the new parameters of their relationship had been set, they hadn’t done much work around their settlement, other than rearranging the setup so that their two beds were now one. Actually, having one bedroom allowed for more space in the rest of the lean-to and it was a pity it had taken six weeks to understand that. 

She shifted, feeling his eyes on her, waiting for the question she knew was coming. There were different looks Chakotay gave her and this one was definitely a “tell me about your life” more than “take off your clothes and ride me.” “What?” she asked, pushing her mostly empty plate aside so she could stretch out next to him. He moved his own plate and rolled to face her, his hand on her hip, and the look in his eyes shifted slightly as his fingertips moved her skirt up her legs. Okay, so maybe that look had a bit of ‘take off your clothes and ride me’ to it. 

“I keep getting distracted by wanting to make love to you,” he said, lowering his mouth to her neck. “I want to ask all of these questions we’ve never asked each other, but then I catch a glimpse of your skin and I need to taste it.” 

“So taste,” she encouraged, threading her fingers through his hair. “We’ve got the rest of our lives for conversation.” 

His hand moved up under the fabric of her skirt and she rolled to her back, granting him access to explore. His light touch sent her skin shivering and she bit her lip as he moved between her legs, stroking her through the underwear she was tempted to just stop wearing. At least until this first blush of romance wore off. While his fingers teased ever so lightly, his mouth sucked her pulse point and Kathryn could only open her legs and hold on while he teased her. 

“When you were out here, in your tub,” he murmured between kisses to her collarbone, “did you ever touch yourself?” The question was punctuated with her press to her core and she knew what he really meant, what he wanted to hear. 

“Yes,” she confessed. The admission earned a slide of his long fingers under the edge of her underwear and she arched toward him. “What about you?” she asked. “That night, when we saw the monkey and I was in my towel …” 

“It took everything I had not to just pull it off of you. So, instead …” his hand palmed her again before he pulled back and sat up, rolling completely on top of her. Her legs parted around him and she could feel his erection through his pants. “I went back to my room and made myself feel very guilty.” 

She laughed while he pinned her arms above her head and went to work on her neck again. It was the perfect torture, to be clothed and in his arms and so close to release. And they had the rest of their lives to do this, to be like this. The only people in the world and they were lucky enough to have each other. 

“Stay still,” he commanded and she obeyed while he pulled back. Kneeling between her thighs, he gently pulled her underwear down her legs and tossed it aside before loosening the fastenings on his own pants. She groaned and opened her legs wider and the grin that crossed his face made her feel dirty and commanding all at the same time. “Want something, Kathryn?”

“For you to fuck me into next Tuesday - if Tuesday even matters anymore.” 

“As you wish, Captain.” He bent over her again, and still clothed save for what they needed for contact, he raised her hips to his and plunged into her. She cried out as he again pinned her hands over her head while he fucked her, claiming her as his own. Her legs wrapped around his hips as he rocked into her over and over, her body aching already for a release that wouldn’t be hers. Not yet. 

With a groan he stilled and met her eyes and she watched him watch her. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The energy and emotion that radiated from him told her everything that made up tales of waring tribes didn’t even touch. This wasn’t something they were doing because they were the only two people on the planet - but sweet hell did it make it even more romantic. 

Slowly, he began to move again, pushing into her, never breaking eye contact until she was arching up, desperate, and he kissed her, plunging into her mouth as his body shuddered against hers. So close. She was so damn close. A desperate gasp escaped her as he pulled back, his fingers seeking where his body had been, and soft fingertips stroked her, bringing her closer and closer until he leaned forward, his mouth at her ear, and whispered, “Come for me.” 

And she did. She shattered so loudly she was sure their primate friend knew exactly what was happening under this tree. 

Coming back to herself, Kathryn sat up and smoothed her skirt over her legs. Chakotay stretched next to her, his pants still undone, and her eyes took in the comfort of the moment. How freeing, really, to know they had no responsibilities save for what they offered to each other. “I like the idea of a log cabin,” she said. “A place where we can grow together.” 

“You ready for the work?” His smile was bright and teasing. 

“Are you?” she taunted right back. 

He laughed and tugged her back down next to him and this time, they took their time. No rushing to the finish, no claiming of each other. As clothes came off, they touched and explored, fingertips leading the way for lips and tongues, learning skin all over again. As Chakotay groaned when her lips found the indent of his hips, Kathryn knew she could spend her life learning his body, and never get tired of reviewing the muscles in his thighs or the smattering of hair between his nipples. 

Why had they waited so long? Why had she denied herself even a moment of this freedom? 

She moved between his legs, lowering her mouth to his cock. He cursed in Klingon and tugged her hair only slightly as she moved her lips on him. Her secret was that she’d always liked giving head, and Chakotay’s natural dominance only added to the seduction. In this position, though, she had the power and he was helpless to do anything but guide her head and call her name and when he warned her he was coming, she was already there with him and took what he gave. 

“Come here,” he murmured, his gaze low and hooded. She did, lying next to him, and he rolled to trace her body with his fingers. He tweaked a nipple and leaned in close. “Touch yourself,” he said, his voice still low, “I want to watch you come.” 

It wasn’t the first time in their short affair he’d made this request and she remained more than happy to oblige. She was so wet, so ready, and while his fingers worked her nipples, she slid her hand between her thighs. 

“Moment of truth, Kathryn,” he said as she slid a finger into her body, “how often before we got stranded here did you fantasize about me?” 

Did she confess? 

Her fingers worked her body and she reached a hand for him, pulling him close for a kiss. “I lost count,” she admitted as her thumb worked her clit. “What about you?”

“Since day one,” he said, kissing her. “Gods, Kathryn, since day one.” 

She came. 

**Week Eight**

Life no longer revolved around finding a cure. The plasma storm had seen to that. Now, instead of hunting down specimens and tracking antibody counts, Kathryn turned her attention to using the equipment that had survived the storm to making their lives easier. While Chakotay plotted out the square footage for the log cabin and tracked down trees worth cutting and dragging back for the project, Kathryn opened the seed drawer and began tilling the land for their garden. It was time to stop relying on the replicator and far beyond time that she participate in the creation of their home. 

Rather than starting the seedlings in the protected space of the shelter (truly there was not room) she dug careful lines and separated out areas for Talaxian tomatoes and Terran potatoes. By midday, she was ready for a break and pushed herself up off the clearing floor to find her lover. Maybe a quick bath in the river could be on the agenda. 

She found him on the back side of the shelter, the area for the log cabin plotted, and a few branches outlining the perimeter. But what seemed to have occupied most of his time was a shifting around of the walls of their small shelter. The space they now claimed as a bedroom opened up to the outside, a tarp and mosquito netting expanding the space to the equivalent of a sunporch. A stone-lined fire pit was at the foot of the bed, acting as a fireplace to keep them warm as night encroached. “What’s this?”

He jumped and turned to her. “We needed more space, and this is much better for us, don’t you think?” 

“I do,” she sighed. “This is lovely, Chakotay.” 

“And it should serve us well until the cabin is finished.” He paused and she walked to him, taking his hand. “I’m glad you like it.” 

“It’s perfect.” It wasn’t a kiss meant to go anywhere. They were both covered in the grime and dirt of the day, but still, clinging to him as his mouth explored hers grounded her. “I was thinking we could take a quick bath in the river? If you’re ready for a break that is.” 

His grin told her that he was more than ready for a break. “What, we’re in a hurry?”

“Don’t seem to be,” she grinned and turned around, walking back toward the water. Only when he started to chase her did she run, giggling like she was sixteen again. 

He caught up to her as she slipped out of her dress and pulled her naked body against his fully clothed one. “I know why we waited,” he said, “and truthfully, I don’t know if I could have kept myself professional knowing what you look like under that uniform.” 

“Really?” She teased. “You never wondered?”

His mouth found her neck. “Every day.” 

“I caught you looking, more than once.” 

“How did it make you feel?” his hands roamed down over her ass, cupping her close to him. He smelled of the woods and sweat and musk and Kathryn’s legs turned to jelly. 

“Powerful,” she admitted. He growled and sucked the pulse point on her neck hard enough that she knew he’d left a mark. Only the desire for the cool water running over her body was stronger than what she wanted from Chakotay and she pulled back and slid into the low point of the river they had discovered was perfect for bathing. She watched him strip, tossing his soiled clothes out of the way, and shivered as he stalked close to her. 

It was a slow build, stroking and touching, taking time to rinse out their hair and wash dirt away. By the time they climbed from the river, she was trembling not just from the chill of the water but the need to have him inside of her. Still, they gathered their clothes and walked back, hand in hand, to the new bedroom he’d built for them. She tossed the clothes into a pile to be washed later and he led her to the bed and proceeded to show her exactly what he’d thought about all of those times when he’d fantasized about getting her naked. 

His lips painted pictures across her torso, his fingertips taunted her nipples until they were so hard and peaked she tugged on them herself for release. Between her legs, his mouth made love to her, bringing her to the edge over and over again but never letting her crash. Her mind spiraled upward, reaching new levels of trust even as he kept touching and trailing, until finally he rolled her to her stomach and slid into her from behind. His weight over hers was comforting even and he linked their fingers before thrusting, slow and dominant, until even he lost control and they both flew over the edge together. Somewhere, somehow, she was sure she cried his name. 

Kathryn was only vaguely aware of him adjusting them, pulling the sheet up over their bodies, and wrapping her in his arms before she zoned out into a blissful near-consciousness. Maybe she and Chakotay had died when they were bitten by those bugs, but it didn’t matter if this paradise was her afterlife. 

**Week Nine**

The weather, they were learning, was more than idyllic conditions and plasma storms. Tonight, it was raining, cooling the air enough that Kathryn was very glad for the sweater she’d stolen from Chakotay and the fire that was going.

“Can I ask you a question?” 

They’d been quiet for a while, both of them reading. Well, she was trying to read but he had been biting his lip for the past five minutes and it was very distracting. 

“Of course.” He looked up at her from his place by the fire and she slipped off the bed to join him on the low bench. His arm went around her and she snuggled close. “What’s the question?”

“Seska …” she said, looking at him. “Honestly, how are you doing with all of that?”

He only shook his head. “Repressing more than anything. How do you wrap your mind around the idea that someone you cared about is nothing like what you expected and then … did what she did? And all for what?”

Trailing her hand along his thigh, Kathryn took her time responding. “Honestly, I think she’s using that baby to manipulate the maje.” 

“It will backfire. She’s smart, but she isn’t that smart.” He sighed. “And my child …” he shook his head. “That child? I don’t know.” 

“I think it’s okay not to know how to feel about it.” 

His arm tightened around her and she pressed her lips into his shoulder. “Thank you,” he murmured. “It’s all been … a little embarrassing.” 

She wanted to ask the obvious ‘why’ but also understood what he meant. No one wanted their personal life out there like that. “It’s hard when you love someone like that.” 

He sighed. “I'm not sure if I was ever really in love with her, honestly. I cared about her. I wanted Bajor to find its freedom - not just after the occupation but with everything. I loved her passion. But … we never clicked in the right way. I’ve had lovers who meant everything to me,” he looked at her, “company included,” they smiled, “but Seska … it was more about the release than the relationship. And that was all well and good until it didn’t fit whatever plans she had for the universe.” His hand moved up her back and toyed with her hair and Kathryn let him put his thoughts together. There wasn’t any rush. “She’d have taken Voyager if you let her.” 

“Well, I’ll just have to stay one step ahead of her …” Kathryn trailed off and let out a long sigh. “Well, Tuvok will.”

“Now I’m worried,” Chakotay said with a chuckle. 

“Me too!” The joke was as funny now as it was back when they'd been thinking about Tuvok struggling to keep control of the crew as Voyager set off again for Earth. They let the giggle settle into the crackling of the fire and Kathryn let herself wonder what it might be like in a couple of years, once her last birth control injection wore off. Would she bother with the replacement? Would they try to have kids? 

Realization shook her, hard, and she felt everything tense up again. They’d been here barely nine weeks and lovers for only three and she was thinking of kids and a life and what about getting off the planet? Did she really want to be Eve for a new line of humans? 

“What’s wrong?”

Did she tell him the truth or shrug off the anxiety? 

“Kathryn?”

Looking over, she met his eyes. The gaze, full of concern and caution, only spurred her to partial honesty. “I’m getting ahead of myself.” 

“Oh?”

“I’m not really sure how to define it. Thinking about us years from now, but here or not here. I guess I’m having trouble being in the moment. Your skill with it …”

“It’s not as easy for me as you think it is,” he replied. 

“Well, you do a good job with it.” 

They were silent again, staring into the fire. Finally, Kathryn dared herself to speak. “ _Midway upon the journey of our life, I found myself within a forest dark, for the straightforward pathway had been lost. Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say what was this forest savage, rough, and stern, which in the very thought renews the fear. So bitter is it, death is little more; but of the good to treat, which there I found, speak will I of the other things I saw there._ ”

“I’m not familiar …” Chakotay said, his voice curious. 

“ _Dante’s Inferno_ ,” she said. “The opening passage. I mean, it’s about a trek down into hell and all, but some of the lines just work.” She paused and smiled. “Mark gave me a stunning copy for an engagement present. I’m still not sure how to parse that.” 

“You love him very much,” Chakotay said, and she was glad he didn’t focus on the teasing about the poem. 

“I do. And part of me …” she shook her head. “He thinks I’m dead. And I spent the last year missing him and pretending I’d somehow still make the wedding.” The fire crackled. “Does it bother you?”

“That you still love a man you wanted to spend your life with? Of course not. It isn’t a switch, Kathryn. You can’t just turn it off and on. The fact that you’re willing to share this part of yourself with me says more about you than I can express. You aren’t pretending he doesn’t exist. That matters.” 

Again, she leaned against him, taking his strength and hoping he felt hers. “I miss him, but I’m so glad I’m trapped here with you instead of, oh … Neelix.” They both chuckled. “The cooking would be covered, of course. And the conversation. But I’m not lonely here. Not with you. And even if we hadn’t become lovers, I still wouldn’t be lonely.” 

“I’m glad we did though.”

“I’m glad you told me that … ancient legend.” 

They both laughed and a log popped in the fire. Somewhere in the forest, a primate screamed. “I am too,” he murmured before kissing her. 

**Week Ten**

The rain hadn’t stopped. It wasn’t a heavy downpour but instead one of those misty, humid rains that never quite dried out. Kathryn was ever glad for the tarp and the tent that kept the wood for the fire dry. She was also glad for warm blankets and the tea Neelix had sent down for them. “At least the seedlings will be well watered,” she sighed as she watched a drop of water trail down the outside of the tarp. Chakotay chuckled as he came back to the bed, stretching out next to her. She reached over and stroked her fingers across his chest. “One thing that makes me sad …”

“Yeah?”

“That we’ll never see Earth again. And I’m not talking that pale, blue dot. I’m talking about …” she sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s easy to forget you aren’t from Earth and …”

“You know, I loved it when I was there,” he kissed her palm. “And I know you miss Indiana. For a woman who loves the stars, you are truly rooted in that ground.” 

“I was thinking just now how much my mother would love you. But you’ll never meet her. And, if we were in a position for you to meet, I’d be marrying Mark.”

“It’s almost as if the universe has multiple roads to walk and we can be on them at any point in time.” 

She laughed. “You have a point.” 

“This place actually reminds me of one of the Bajoran colony worlds,” Chakotay said. “There wasn’t much out there in that sector of space, but the ancient Bajorans actually terraformed a planet with technology we wouldn’t even think of using today. The Cardassians took it over in seconds though. They put a military barrier around it, though, and the siege almost destroyed it. But, they endured.” He paused, clearly wondering how to say what he was about to say. “We had a Maquis base camp there,” he said. “B’Elanna left someone she loved very much behind.” 

Kathryn nodded, understanding the subtext. She should have seen the longing in the other woman’s eyes, the sadness of something, someone, left behind. “That explains a lot.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll admit I thought you two were sleeping together at first.” 

His laugh warmed her heart. “I’ll admit there were some flirtations along the way, but nothing more than that. Seska would have killed her.” 

Kathryn let the giggle take over and she leaned against him. “Fair point.” she rolled her eyes. 

They were quiet for a while. She watched the fire, he rubbed her back idly. “We’re a colony world now, if you think about it,” she finally said. 

She heard more than saw his raised eyebrow. “Want to plant a flag for the Federation? Set up an embassy?” His tone was thick with irony and she had to roll her eyes. 

“You don’t hate the Federation,” she said. 

“No,” he said. “I love it. I love the ideals and the Democratic concepts. I love that it truly is a mission of expiration and cooperative peace and not one of violent colonization. The Federation is everything human society has been striving for. But, it has problems. Big ones. And I personally get tired of the patriotism. It’s not all roses and sunshine. Border worlds aren’t given enough protection, new worlds are held to a standard of assimilation that doesn’t always taste right in my mouth, and the non-involvement concepts of the Prime Directive only work on paper. In actuality, people get hurt more often than not.” He shrugged. “I mean, think about the Kazon. No, I don’t think we should have given them transporter technology, but what has that cost us? And what has Seska joining with them done? I would argue perhaps that she is more dangerous than technology they would steal from someone in the quadrant soon enough anyway.” 

“We didn’t know that at the time.” 

“No, we didn’t. And I still think we made the right choices, but ... governance, it isn’t black or white. It’s only gray. And sometimes I think the Federation and Starfleet forget that.” He took her hand and touched her cheek. “But loving something, loving someone, means more than ever that you’re allowed to criticize. When you criticize from a place of love, you want things to improve. When you criticize from a place of hate, you want to tear down.” 

Kathryn raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready for an entire rundown of how she could have done things better back on Voyager. “So, what criticisms do you have for me right now?”

His arm moved around her, nudging her up onto his lap. She leaned back against his torso, feeling him support her, and laughed as his hands moved up under her skirt. “That you’re wearing too many clothes.” 

“So are you saying that things would improve if I were naked?”

His hands parted her legs and she fought for balance as he continued to stroke and tease. “Vastly.” 

There was no rush in his touch, and Kathryn leaned back against him, letting him explore. She could feel him hardening between them, and ground down, teasing and encouraging. “Want to move to the bed?”

“No,” he murmured against her neck. He tapped her hips and she adjusted enough so he could slide her underwear down and away. “I want you right here.” She gasped and settled again, rocking against him as his fingertips traced frustrating patterns on her inner thighs. “Patience, Kathryn,” he murmured. “Patience.” 

She squirmed and arched and he simply amused himself, dipping in to play between her folds, and she stayed right where she was, trying not to whimper with need. One hand strayed to her breast and she clutched it there, pressing herself to him. 

The fire popped and crackled. Chakotay slid two fingers into her, stroking so slowly, and she rolled her head back to rest against his as he worked her. “Do you know why I love moments like this so much?” he whispered. 

“What? Why?” Why was he asking her questions now?

“Because watching you lose control is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” 

And she came, hard and fast around him, his thumb on her clit and his hand on her breast. She came, gasping his name and trembling and needing more but so sensitive she could barely breathe. He held her close, whispering her name, and she trembled out one last aftershock before standing and turning to him. He had already loosened his pants and she knelt before him and took him in her mouth. 

He wasn’t the only one who liked watching control be lost. 

**Week Eleven**

“See, here’s the problem,” Kathryn said as she walked into the section of the cabin that was quickly becoming the kitchen. The new shelter was coming slowly, if only because they were only two people and trees were heavy. Still, the outline of a new room off of the bedroom was taking shape. 

“What’s that?”

“I. Can’t. Cook.” 

He laughed and slid an arm around her, pulling her close. He stood over the stone oven she’d helped him build, stewing a small rabbit-like creature that had wandered into a trap. “But I can. Everyone should know three things before leaving their mother’s house.”

“And what are those things?” 

“How to mend, how to make a fire, and how to cook.” 

She groaned. “I can do two of those things. Kind of.”

“It still astonishes me that you made that baby blanket for Samantha Wildman’s daughter.” 

“Don’t ask me why, but crocheting calms me down. I just don’t do it enough.”

“I haven’t seen you out there with your needles since we came down here.”

She caught the challenge and chuckled. “In one of the crates. I just haven’t found reason yet. But, I was thinking it might be nice to do an afghan for our bedroom.” She paused. “That still seems so strange to say.”

“Yeah, well. We’ll get used to it,” he said before kissing her neck and turning away from the stove. “We’ve got time before this is done. Want help getting out the needles? Those crates are pretty tightly packed.” 

“You’re serious?”

“Why not do it while we’re thinking of it.” He walked into the main shelter and she followed, shaking her head. But, he was right, the crates they hadn’t bothered to unpack were tightly packed and bound together, all away from the main structure but still within reach behind the semi-industrial replicator the ship had parted with for their comfort. “Which one?” he asked, scanning the labels. 

“Top, small ones. KJ personal.” She walked to the replicator and typed in the program for green yarn, a blend she’d always liked using. By the time the yarn had materialized, Chakotay was handing her a small bag with her crochet and knitting supplies. “I don’t embroider. That’s where I draw the line. I can mend, though. And more than what Starfleet survival taught us.” 

He laughed as he made sure the crates were secure. “Good to know.” A pause. “How’s the power looking on the replicator?” 

She poked at the readouts. “The conductor is solid. We’re good as long as that solar cell holds out.” Flashing him a grin, she nodded at the instrument. “We could just replicate dinner.”

“That rabbit thing died for a reason,” Chakotay said with a laugh. “Now come on, let’s go sit by the fire and you can crochet and I’ll do sand mandalas and we’ll grow old and gray together.” 

She paused in terror at the reminder of their future but he only smiled and stepped in closer. “It’s okay, Kathryn. I’m still getting used to it too.” 

“I’m forgetting what it was like to be in uniform every day. My hair up. Sleeping alone.” 

“That’s because we move on. We heal. Slowly but surely.” He kissed her softly. “And if you ever want to get back in uniform … well … there were some fantasies I bet we both had.” 

She laughed and shoved at him playfully. “Yes,” she taunted. “I’m sure.” A wink over her shoulder and she was back toward the house where she took a seat near the cooking fire and watched him come and work. “What will future explorers make of our life here?” 

“They’ll see a home and the remnants of two people who deserved more than they allowed themselves to have.” 

Looking up at his tone, she met his eyes. The longing and tenderness stunned her. She could see it, all of it, dreams of a future, a hope that children they had would be able to leave, a prayer for safety in this life. They were here. They were in it. And he loved her. “Come here,” she murmured to him, setting the yarn aside. 

The afghan could wait. 

**Week Twelve**

Silence filled the cabin. Slowly, Kathryn sank to the bench at the table and stared at the communicator in her hand. This changed everything. 

Everything. 

“They didn’t give up on us,” she choked out. “They had an order and …”

“And they didn’t give up on us,” he reiterated. “You don’t leave your crew behind.” 

“We told them ….” she sucked in a breath. “Is it terrible that I don’t know how to feel right now?”

“You mean, terrified and excited and pissed off all at once?” 

A laugh, short and bitter. “Yeah.” Reaching for his hand, Kathryn watched their fingers. If she looked at him, she’d break. “This changes everything, Chakotay.”

Silence. Long silence. He pulled his hand away and walked out of the cabin and everything in her wanted to follow him but she couldn’t. Following him meant finding a way to keep this going when they got back to Voyager and she just wasn’t in a place to do that. Not yet. She couldn’t captain the ship and love Chakotay and keep her sense of decorum. 

_Damn you, Tuvok. Damn you for doing the right thing. For not leaving anyone behind_. Closing her eyes, she leaned forward, careful not to active the comm badge, and tried to breathe. She wasn’t going to cry. Not right now. She and Chakotay weren’t going to have to live their lives out here. They were going to be able to go home - home - to Voyager, and maybe to Earth. And maybe when they got back to the Alpha Quadrant, maybe, they could find their way back to each other. 

Carefully, she stood and walked to the tented bedroom where she and Chakotay had spent the last few weeks sleeping next to each other. Around them, the stakes and frame were finally planted, and a few logs had been stabilized. She sank onto the bed with the recently replicated plum sheets and reached for Chakotay’s pillow. She held it to her face, inhaling his scent, before leaning over to her bedside shelf. Opening the drawer, she pulled out the ring box and the padd with that final letter. 

_Kate -_

_Look, I know you keep saying you don’t care, but could you please let me know - did you want the gray or the beige napkins. Your mother is tired of asking and if I come back without a decision she is certain you made, she’s going to tell us to elope to Risa._

_Come to think of it … do you want to elope to Risa?_

_Let me know. Please. Before you get lost in another report._

_Also - I think the dog is pregnant._

_-Mark_

Blinking away tears, Kathryn tapped the reply icon and typed in _The gray ones, Mark. I’m just fine with those. - Katy_

She and Chakotay had to talk. They had new parameters to define.


	4. Chapter 4

**After**

“Come in,” she said to the chime of her door, standing tall as he entered. Chakotay stood in the doorway for a moment, a box in his hands, and she could see him wrestling with the same questions she was asking herself. After too many heartbeats, he stepped all the way into her quarters and crossed to where she stood by her table. The box in his hands went onto the glass and he pulled her to him and for a moment, just a moment, Kathryn let herself forget their place. The kiss was hot and desperate and only when she found herself starting to forget dinner and pull him to her bedroom did she stop. “Chakotay …” she murmured. “We … talked about this.” The conversation over breakfast only yesterday morning loomed large. And now, here they were again, needing to talk about it. 

“Can we untalk?” he asked.

She sighed and then laughed and he groaned and pulled her against him, but his touch was one of resignation, not passion. “Eventually, maybe.” Her hand touched his cheek and she pulled away. 

“The crew put bets on us, you know.” 

That made her laugh, true and clear. “I’m torn on whether or not Tuvok would have participated.” 

“I’m sure he did. Just under an assumed name.” 

“You mean, he put his lot in with Harry? Or … no … Neelix. We'd never suspect that.” Kathryn poured wine for both of them and moved to the couch. Chakotay followed, handing her the box before he sat down. “What’s this?”

“A memento,” he shrugged. 

She set her wine down and opened the box to find a small jar full of the sand he’d used for his mandalas down on New Earth. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself the memory of sitting there with him while he showed her his technique. How often had those moments together led to the bedroom? Maybe she'd still finish the afghan for him. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I know just the place for it.” 

“Kathryn …” 

The silence now was heavy. Frustrated. Painful. Anticipation was torture when there couldn’t be any fulfillment. “The hardest part is that we moved on, we found our life, and now we have to …”

“Do it again?”

“This was what I was scared of,” she confessed. She reached for his hand and scooted closer on the couch and when he kissed her, she didn’t pull away. Not at first. “I was terrified of loving you so completely and then having it ripped away.” A pause. “I’m sure there’s an ancient legend in there, somewhere.” 

He almost laughed and then sighed, stroking a finger down her cheek. “I love you, too.”

“You don’t hate me?” she asked, needing him to say it again. 

“Never,” he sighed. “Because I know, under how I’m feeling right now, that you’re right. I don’t want you to be right, but you are.” He met her gaze. “Eventually, things on this ship will change. Not drastically, but enough that we can feel comfortable as leaders of a community rather than just a ship. And I don’t mean encouraging art and literature or anything like that. I mean eventually, this crew will be more like a family than a crew. And maybe then, it won’t be as much of a worry if the First Officer and the Captain do crew evaluations from their couch.” 

“I need to know they can trust you,” she said. “You are the ear for them and they might respect Tuvok, but I know the Maquis crew is still wary and he isn’t exactly a confidant for anyone except maybe Kes.” 

“I know.” He stared at her. “What happens if tomorrow a wormhole opens up and we find ourselves circling Bajor?”

Kathryn let out a breath and reached forward to touch his cheek. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I want to be able to tell you that I tell Mark that I hope he’s found love and joy. But emotions like this are just not something I manage well and suddenly, it’s three months ago and I’m wondering about plum napkins for the wedding all over again.” 

“Why didn’t you ever tell him?”

“Because I just wanted to get married.” She sighed. “And I just want to love you.” 

He kissed her hand and then her, softly. “We could lead by example, Kathryn. We could show that this ship is more than a Starfleet vessel barreling through space.” 

“But we are a Starfleet vessel barreling through space, Chakotay. And eventually, we’re going to find a way back to the Alpha Quadrant and …”

“The last thing you want is for some ally we make along the way to discover that Starfleet ships aren’t generational structures where the Captain and the First Officer are in love?” 

She sighed. “Yeah, that’s part of it.” 

“Kathryn, I’m not sure what world you are living in but … this is the real Starfleet. I’m not Ensign Kim. I know full on what happens on deep space exploration missions.” 

“But not between the Captain and the First Officer.” 

“No,” he admitted. “Not between the captain and the first officer.” He kissed her palm again. “But it’s going to take me a very long time to get used to not coming to you at night.” 

“I think …” she sighed. “We should return to that sense of normal we had, though. Before New Earth. Regular dinners and just being able to work together.” 

“Over time,” he said, his voice far too soft. “We’ll get there.” 

She nodded and wiped her eyes. “I want you to stay.” 

“Then, I should go.” 

“Yeah,” she sniffed. He rose and walked to the door. “Chakotay,” she called out, “do you regret this?” 

“This, right now? Or New Earth?”

“Both?” 

His gaze leveled her with the same passion and tenderness she’d seen the night of the Warrior Tale. “No. I regret that we aren’t free enough yet to be who we want to be for each other. But I don’t regret loving you. And I know that someday, if we really want to, we’ll come back to each other again.” 

She nodded. He took a deep breath, turned, and walked out of her quarters. Kathryn stared at the bottle of wine, the glass of sand, and stood up and made her way toward her bed. She refilled the wine on the way, and curled up. On her bed was her personal padd, full of letters to a fiancé who no longer had a need to wait for her. 

_Mark_ , she wrote. _I wonder if I will ever see you again … and if I do, will you understand why I love someone else … will you understand like he does? Oh, I hope so._

But, she couldn’t go on. To go on meant every foundation she’d built for her survival on this ship would crumble. Shivering, she pulled Dante from under her pillow and opened the cover, reading Mark’s opening note again and again and again. 

_We’re midway upon the journey of our life, Katy, and you only make the forest bright and the paths clear. Marry me._

_Midway upon the journey of our life  
I found myself within a forest dark,  
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.  
Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say  
What was this forest savage, rough, and stern,  
Which in the very thought renews the fear.  
So bitter is it, death is little more;  
But of the good to treat, which there I found,  
Speak will I of the other things I saw there._

She stared at the padd, at her letter to him. _I found someone who makes the forest easier, Mark. But we can’t be together. And I just don’t know how I feel._

“Bridge to the Captain.” 

She sighed and glanced toward the ceiling. “Yes, Tuvok.” 

“Long range sensors have detected a Vidiian ship moving on an intercept course.” 

“Time?”

“One hour.” 

She stared at the book, at the padd, and took a breath. “I’ll be there shortly. Thank you.” 

Kathryn put up her hair and washed her face. Matters of the heart meant little when trying to get her crew home through this ever wild forest. She had a job to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Orange Sutra  
> -Tess Gallagher 
> 
> I wanted to take you in, peel and all,  
> with the mind's all-swallowing  
> mouth. But the mind prefers  
> unoranging the orange  
> until a segment unhinges  
> and shines upright  
> in the night sky, unaware  
> of the night or of its own shining.
> 
> In such a way the mind makes a darker thing  
> of night's conception of itself.  
> Its crescent admonishes lamentation as  
> a temporary setback, mindful of the round,  
> the moon's fullness, from which it came  
> and from which it draws power  
> to increase or disappear  
> into us, entirely.
> 
> Gone full again, how orange are you, Orange,  
> now that a moon mistakes you for its  
> daughter? Just as I  
> thought: you are a wisecrack  
> in the abundance of the night's spiraling obituary,  
> willing to carry us with you  
> like poor relations,  
> until we run out of pretexts, alterations  
> and gambits.
> 
> If I choose to live in mind of you,  
> it will be known only on the blackboard  
> of a thought's mad all-over grammar,  
> those woolly bees of the heart  
> that want to sting a moment to death  
> with memory -- spelling the past wuz,  
> with its fur on, and letting it roll before us  
> like an orange, a portable altar  
> that prays all over itself  
> with itself.
> 
> You could say so, Orange.  
> You could kneel as you said so.  
> The way an orange is always kneeling  
> and upright at once.


End file.
